


Coming Home Is Best

by Audriss



Category: The Walking Dead (TV), The Walking Dead - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - No Zombie Apocalypse, Cute, Daryl Is Happy!, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Fluff, Humor, I'm tired of people stomping him down, M/M, Rickyl fluff, The Walking Dead AU, Thunder scares Judith and Carl
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-13
Updated: 2015-07-13
Packaged: 2018-04-09 02:15:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4329891
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Audriss/pseuds/Audriss
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rick comes home after a long day at work.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Coming Home Is Best

**Author's Note:**

> This is pure Rickyl fluff. No smut. Fluff. The whole thing is inspired by a pic drawn by lovely lovely LOVELY [msbt](http://archiveofourown.org/users/msbt/pseuds/msbt/works?fandom_id=205859) that can be found on her Tumblr page, but here is the link:[Click](http://beitae.tumblr.com/post/119367240845/three-words-art-meme-rickyl-asleep-kids)
> 
> I am not all too satisfied, but hopefully you like this!

When Rick arrives at the house it is dark outside. The street where they live in is silent, not a surprise though, since there are mostly just families living there. He parks his patrol car on their driveway, behind his own car and Daryl’s bike, and quickly goes through the papers he has taken along with him, stuffing them eventually into a small satchel he’s got just for them. He kills the engine, gets up from the vehicle and locks the doors.

It’s one of those nights of an Indian Summer and hot as hell outside, making him wipe sweat off his brow even before he reaches the front door. The keys jiggle and clink, as he fumbles to find the right key for the front door, and swears underneath his breath that he’s never going to come home this late _ever_ again. Daryl locks the front door usually around 10 pm, and Rick hates to come home when the door is locked, and not because he can’t find the correct key fast enough.

When he finally finds the right key, wondering to himself why he has so many damn keys, he opens the door, relocks it and feels the coolness of the air conditioned house, he groans approvingly. 

He knows Carl and Judith are already asleep; it’s too late for them to be awake anyways. The silence of the house is seductively lulling. The upstairs is dark and the little sliver of light that streams into the hallway from the kids’ nightlights makes Rick feel a bit sad, and little bit guilty. He feels he hasn’t really had enough time to talk to Carl or spent much time with Judith like he used to. The job, being elected as the new Sheriff, is taking a lot out of him, and yes, he feels guilty about that. But every morning Carl smiles and Judith giggles and they both wave him goodbye when he leaves for work. That makes him little less anxious and little less guilty.

He sighs out loud when he kicks off his boots, and then sighs contend wiggling his toes, stretching them and digging them into the soft carpet on the floor of the foyer. He stretches his feet and curls his toes underneath only to hear them crack, which brings a kind of relief to the dull ache.

He loves his boots, but damn if it doesn’t feel good to get rid of them after a really long day at work. Sometimes he frowns, staring at his toes when they are really sore and contemplates about getting himself a better pair of shoes, maybe a pair of those combat boots most of the deputies wear. 

Still wiggling his toes, he unbuckles his gun belt and picks up the ammo and the Colt Python and makes sure they are secured in the small weapons safe they’ve installed away from Judith’s curious little fingers. 

He turns around smiling, and looking for Daryl, and - - 

Because even if the _kids_ are asleep, he doesn’t expect Daryl to be asleep as well on the couch, though. And he is, sprawled on that huge, comfy couch, with a remote in his right hand that rests on his chest, Jaws playing on the screen, and the TV muted.

He’s fast asleep.

He notices the new tears on his black jeans and sighs, but smiles anyways. He’s sure Daryl doesn’t have any chance in the world of keeping his damn jeans intact for longer than few seconds at a time. He’s got three Band-Aids on his fingers and there are still some oil stains on his hands and arms. Doesn’t matter if it’s a slow or a busy day at the garage, he always comes home delightfully dirty.

Rick knows, because it’s written all over Daryl’s face, that the Archer is still a bit in awe that he’s got a job he actually loves; and really not just a job, since Dale offered half of the garage to him. And still, he sees how Daryl’s a little wary, little afraid that this is somehow a dream that could just disappear when the alarm goes off. But if he has anything to say about that, he’s never going to let that happen.

Rick walks to the couch, eyes moving up Daryl’s body, and notices that he’s still wearing that ratty black button up shirt with sleeves rather brutally cut off as his left arm is thrown above his head, and hanging there limp.

Rick sits down on the coffee table, and just looks at Daryl sleeping. He looks at Daryl and feels his heart and chest tightens when he notices how peaceful and relaxed he looks. 

_Family life suits Daryl_ , Rick thinks, and leans forward, his elbows resting against his knees, with a smile on his lips. He chuckles when he thinks how panicked Daryl first was when Judith grabbed his finger and wouldn’t let go, or when he was certain he’d end up losing the kids in their backyard, or when he tried to convince Rick that he didn’t know shit about kids because he never really was a kid himself. He also remembers the argument that he didn’t want to be around kids since he’d probably end up being like his father. And then he grins lopsidedly when he remembers how both of the kids proved Daryl wrong.

Carl; always wants to be like the Archer, and how he looks up to him, and Judith; how she seems to adore him more than she adores Rick! And sometimes he feels a little jealous of that, but then he counts his blessings. Daryl was definitely the one who was dreading to be a father, but sometimes he’s far better father than Rick believes himself to be. 

Daryl’s legs, they are sprawled too.

Rick follows the line of his right leg as it is thrown over the back of the couch, and then the left leg as it’s slouched on the ground. He snores lightly, and it amuses Rick that even when he’s snoring, he’s being a hunter and keeping it quiet. He finds it slightly too adorable as well. He mumbles something in his sleep, smacks his lips a little, his neck cranes a little as he tilts his head up and continues to snore. Rick bites his tongue because he just can’t take it much more. 

Sometimes, just like now, he wonders if he could actually function better and more coherent if Daryl wasn’t around. Some days he’s all he can think of and during those days Rick’s sure he could’ve cured cancer or resolved the energy crisis if he wasn’t thinking of his Archer back at home. Because seeing him sleeping on their couch right now, and clearly he had tried to stay awake long enough and wait for him, but sleep took the best of him, is somewhat of a proof of a distraction.

Rick knows that sleep could usually take the best of Daryl where ever he happened to lay his head at and feel comfy enough. It’s just something he’s learned to do over the years of growing up in an abusive home, but right now, when he’s safe and secure in their home, it’s more than adorable to Rick.

Daryl shifts, and Rick sighs. It almost feels like it’s a sin to wake him up, but he just can’t deal with the sight of him sleeping anymore.

He brushes his fingers through Daryl’s hair, “Daryl?” he whispers, sliding his hand down and touches the man’s stomach gently, his thumb rubbing against the fabric of the sleeveless shirt. Daryl groans a little, slightly irritated that his sleep is interrupted, but stirs awake anyways. Rick chuckles a little, when he watches his body arch and lean into the touch like a cat – that he is – and shift on the couch a little more. The shirt rides up, and Rick’s fingers touch the bare, tanned skin of his stomach, and suddenly it’s electrifying. He watches carefully how Daryl’s eyes flutter slightly before they open, and he yawns fiercely before his face melts into an adorable coy smile. Sleepy Daryl is still probably one of the cutest things he knows.

“Ya home,” he murmurs softly, and stretches all of his limbs. 

“Really long day, sorry about that,” Rick shrugs and scoots up from the coffee table, and slides to sit down next to Daryl on the couch. He lets his hands wander over Daryl’s sides stroking him gently.

“Kids asleep?” Rick asks then.

Daryl nods and looks up at Rick still smiling coyly. It’s one of those little smiles that he gives to Rick and only when they are alone, “Prob’ly for hours by now,” Daryl says and then yawns and rubs sleep off of his eyes. 

“Hey, it _was_ a shitty, and long day,” Rick sighs and bites back a yawn. 

18 hours is a long day for anyone, and for Rick it was even longer. He was supposed to get off of work eight hours earlier. But it doesn’t matter right now.

“Oh, hey, got ya sum’thin’,” Daryl says groggily, and wiggles on the couch, turning onto his side, and reaching down and behind the couch, where Rick couldn’t see. He pulls out a small bag and plops it on Rick’s lap, before settling on his side on the couch, elbow propped up and resting his head against his palm. 

“Well what’s this?” Rick asks grinning like a mad man, and is ready to tease Daryl about getting him a gift.

“Yah, me an’ Judith and Carl made it,” he says, yawns and watches half-lidded as Rick opens the bag and pulls out a photo frame. It’s made out of wood, carvings framing the edge, there are dry macaroni glued on the wood and pink glitter glue everywhere, even on the glass protecting the image of the four of them. 

Rick looks up at Daryl questioningly, not quite trusting his voice.

“’made the frame, Carl wrangled up the pic, and glued the macaroni on and Judith helped with the glitter glue,” Daryl explains, voice still thick and husky from the sleep. It’s probably the best gift Rick’s ever received, and he knows he’s received a lot of gifts. He watches as Daryl points in the general direction of the picture frame and chuckles a little.

“That damn glitter glue’s all over the place,” Daryl says, scratches the back of his head and looks up at Rick sheepishly. Rick notices it quickly. There are small glittery dots here and there on Daryl’s forehead and right cheek, and he looks coy, but the grin he’s wearing is nothing if not a mischievous and boyish grin.

Rick smiles, sighing deep and contently, loving how Daryl’s able to be a kid with Carl and Judith. Even though the frame carving takes skills – and Daryl, if anyone, certainly has those skills with a blade – he’s not afraid to play with kindergarten stuff like dry pasta and glitter glue.

Rick looks at the photo frame and smiles, genuinely happy, “I love it. Thank you.”

“Yeah, thank the kids. It ain’t much,” Daryl says, shuffling up from the couch, and stretches his arms above his head, his sleeveless shirt hiking up just a little bit, revealing that strip of tanned skin on his stomach, “But we were bored, waitin’ ya ass back home.”

“Mmhmmh,” Rick hums, his mouth going dry at the sight in front of him, and looks up at Daryl. He slowly slides his hands up Daryl’s sides, pressing his forehead against the Archer’s stomach. He groans slightly when Daryl weaves his fingers into Rick’s unruly hair. Rick feels him shiver, and he can’t help himself when he finds himself tugging his shirt up and kissing the tanned skin of his abdomen. He feels Daryl tensing, shivering and then relaxing.

“R-Rick,” he groans softly.

“God, I missed you,” Rick growls against Daryl’s stomach, his fingers quickly hooking underneath the waistband of his jeans.

“What’s got ya so eager, _Corkscrew_?” Daryl chuckles, using the stupid nickname of Rick’s they came up from nowhere. Rick’s not complaining, but he could do without the nickname.

It’s been rather difficult to find some alone time for the two. Carl and Judith take much of their attention and their job schedules take the rest. 

“I’m kinda partial to that tushy of yours, _Dorsal Fin_ ,” Rick chuckles and even grins up at Daryl who just rolls his eyes at the words.

“Nice firm heinie,” Rick says and demonstrates the firmness playfully with his hands.

“Stop,” Daryl groans, his cheeks quickly turning rosy, and his ears burning up. He’s still slightly uncertain with the affection and appraisal Rick sometimes overly lavishes onto him, but he’s trying. He practically jumps out of his skin, when Rick’s palm smacks hard against his ass. 

“Quit it,” Daryl hisses, trying to keep himself from squealing out loud, reaching to rub his butt, before he turns around and meanders into the kitchen. He’s halfway there when Rick stands up and follows him, clutching the picture frame in his hands. 

He’s still chuckling at the prudishness of Daryl’s behaviour – as if they were being watched – he watches him pour a glass of cold water, while Rick himself tries to find a suitable place for the picture frame. He decides for the counter top, and makes sure it’s something both Judith and Carl can see when they sit on the table for breakfast. 

“What do you think?” Rick asks, turning to look at Daryl, who is half way inside the fridge placing the pitcher of water back inside. Watching Daryl’s ass stick out Rick can’t help but laugh out loud, and then he murmurs softly, “Like I said, nice and firm.”

“Stop it,” Daryl growls and chucks down the water and places the glass into the sink.

“What are you going to do about it?” 

“’m goin’ to bed,” Daryl says gruffly, and then walks past Rick. 

His laughter echoes in the kitchen for a while, before he follows Daryl into their bedroom upstairs.

 

* * *

 

Daryl glares at Rick when he enters their bedroom. He’s still chuckling and feeling giddy like a damn school boy, and looking at Daryl pouting is just egging him on. Daryl’s in process of taking off his shirt, when Rick moves behind him, wrapping his arms around the lean waist and pressing himself against the Archer’s back. He let his hands slide over his stomach, marvelling how smooth his skin was and enjoying the way he reacted to the touch. 

“Rick, c’mon,” he growls, tossing the shirt on the floor, “Tired.”

He keeps hugging Daryl, lips touching his shoulder. He kisses his way up to his neck, while stroking his thumb over his arms.

“Rick?” 

“Hmhmm,” Rick hums, nose pressing against the crook of Daryl’s neck, feeling him lean back against Rick’s chest. 

Rick hums approvingly at how Daryl trembles against him, knowing that the closeness is all they need really right now. Daryl turns around in the possessive yet protective circle of Rick’s arms and grants one of those slight grins of his to Rick, and begins to unbutton his shirt, keeping his eyes locked into his. He’s definitely not always the patient one with the buttons, but now it just feels right.

Rick’s hands rest on Daryl’s biceps, letting go only when Daryl helps his shirt off his shoulders, and down his arms. He lets the shirt drop on the floor, before Rick pulls him into his arms kissing him unhurried, cupping his face, and enjoying the feeling of their together welded lips, Rick’s tongue running across Daryl’s leisurely.

Daryl moans softly into his mouth, fingers tangling into Rick’s unruly curls an tugs the hair in the back of his neck. Rick tilts his head, and Daryl continues to kiss Rick’s jaw and neck, nipping the sensitive skin of his pulse point. 

When he pulls back, both of their eyes are half-lidded, and even Daryl is out of breath. 

He grunts something incoherent, and reaches to unbuckle Rick’s belt, and unzip his pants, his thumbs stroking over the sensitive skin below Rick’s navel. He watches Rick shudder with the contact. He smiles at Daryl, pulls him into another kiss, because he just can’t get enough of feeling Daryl’s lips on his, and enjoying the small fight for dominance with their tongues. His hands grab Daryl by the hips, pulling him closer, fingers fumbling to open the Hunter’s belt, before pulling it off with one quick motion. Out of breath, they step back once more, Rick chuckling at the rosy pink hue on Daryl’s cheeks. 

Rick moves to shimmy out of his uniform pants, folding them neatly on the clothes valet they have in the corner. He does the same on his shirt, while Daryl yanks the buttons of his jeans open, just dropping them down onto his ankles. He kicks the jeans aside, and climbs onto the bed, tossing himself on the pillows, and tucking his arms behind his head. His boxers hang low on his hips, with a grin on his face, looking at Rick. 

“Yeah, arrange ya clothes, so sexy,” Daryl says, twirling his hand with a pointed index finger, and Rick rolls his eyes, because it’s not often the Archer makes jokes. 

Daryl chews his cheek, and bottom lip, not quite understanding why Rick bothers to do that, because he’s always ironing his damn clothes in the morning anyways. Glancing on the floor at his jeans, and the shirt he crumbled on the chair, he just sighs and resigns on watching Rick fuss with his work clothes.

It takes a while for Rick to be satisfied with his clothes, and come to bed. 

“Come here,” Rick murmurs, pulling Daryl eagerly into his arms. He huffs, but doesn’t complain, dragging his pillow along. He settles down Rick’s arm under his head and pillow, sighing deep. He feels contend and happy and when he closes his eyes, he’s all too happy to listen to Rick’s heartbeat until it lulls him into sleep.

“Maybe we should turn off the lights,” Rick murmurs, and when Daryl grumbles in agreement, rolls over to kill the light, Rick’s spooning him and kissing his shoulder, with a satisfying husky groan. 

Daryl groans, while Rick keeps nipping playfully his shoulder, gently stroking his sides, and trails kisses down to his shoulder blades, over the tattoos and the scars. He reciprocates, though, in an instant, his body arching to the touches of his man, hastily pulling the blankets on top of them and wiggling against Rick’s taut form. 

He is about to kiss Rick’s neck, just the spot he knows Rick loves, when there’s a bright flash of light, immediately followed by a loud roar of rolling thunder. They both jump from sudden sound of it, and turn to look at the window that is now flooded with stripes of rain. Daryl is unfazed by it, and enjoys the feeling when Rick pulls him flush against his chest, wrapping his arm snugly around Daryl’s waist. 

His scruff tickles Daryl’s shoulders, when he continues lazily to kiss his back, while his fingers draws equally idle circles on his chest. Daryl feels how his skin crawls, his stomach tightens and his chest aches. He’s not used to it, the feeling of happiness he’s experiencing almost all the time now. He can’t understand why Rick and the kids love him. 

Thinking about it makes him shudder. Rick lifts his head up, and looks intently at him, pressing his form against Daryl tighter. 

“You okay?” he whispers, kissing Daryl’s neck emphatically.

“Yeah, ‘m okay,” Daryl murmurs, “I love you,” he ads then quickly, and breathless, hoping that it doesn’t induce anymore questions. It doesn’t. Because Rick knows how much he hates being second guessed over how he feels. Daryl’s probably the most honest man Rick’s ever met, and when he says something he means it. So, he just sighs, pulls Daryl closer to him, and returns the sentiment, “I love you.”

Rick continues to slowly shower feathery and deliberately placed touches and kisses on Daryl’s neck and jaw, whispering soothing words into his ear, and telling him how much he missed him during the day.

“I missed you, Love,” Rick whispers, and it still makes Daryl tremble of which Rick is rather proud of. They both linger a while in that half-awake, half-sleep state before you fall asleep, when another bright flash of lightning and a loud crack of thunder tremors over the house.

“DADDY!” Judith’s clear voice cuts through the air, and then both Carl and Judith storm through the bedroom door making both Rick and Daryl sit up and rub sleep off their eyes. Rick switches the light on and stares at the two frightened kids standing on their doorway. 

Carl tries to look nonchalant, but he jumps when another crack of thunder echoes inside the house, and he looks wearily around himself. 

“Daddy-yy!” Judith sobs, runs to and climbs up on the bed, and clambers on Daryl’s lap, wrapping her little arms around his neck, “It’s scary,” she whispers into his ear.

“Yeah, she can’t sleep,” Carl says pointing at Judith and wanders slowly towards the bed, “She woke me up.”

Daryl sighs, and cradles Judith in his arms, glancing at Rick who looks as helpless as he does. A second passes, and Rick pats the bed, with a nod of his head, “Come on, hop in,” Rick chuckles.

Carl smirks, and climbs up, crawling between Rick and Daryl on all fours and slides underneath the blanket.

“Daddy, I don’t want to sleep alone,” Judith whispers, and Daryl lowers her down on the bed, tucking the blanket over her, “Yeah, ya’ll sleep here tonight, Cupcake,” and makes Judith giggle delighted when he tickles her neck. 

It’s not a new thing that the kids sleep with the two in the bed. They’ve gone through nightmare and monsters under the bed and closet phases. Being afraid of the thunder is right up the same alley. 

“I’m Princess, Daddy,” Judith says, and makes Carl make a face and roll his eyes. 

“Is that so?” Rick asks.

Judith nods, and closes her eyes. Daryl settles down again, his arm protectively over Judith and closes his eyes. After a moment, when Rick ‘s still puttering with the covers, and trying to settle himself down once more, Daryl opens his eyes again, and frowns at him. 

“C’mon, switch off the damn light, I wanna sleep,” Daryl grumbles. Rick does just that, and pulls the covers over himself as well. Carl and Judith are already breathing steadily, sleeping boneless between their daddies. 

When Rick finally settles down he slides his arm over Carl and Judith, so he can rest his hand on Daryl’s waist. Daryl smiles in his sleepy state, searching Rick’s hand with is own, and entwines his fingers with Rick’s.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading. Please let me know what you think!


End file.
